


Five Things That Never Happened to Pilot

by AstroGirl



Category: Farscape
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pilot gets the Five Things treatment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things That Never Happened to Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Lots o' death and angst and stuff. Much second-season spoilerage, also a couple of third and fourth season references, but I don't think those are especially spoilery.

ONE

She dangles from his claw, gasping and thrashing, and he is hit by a flood of memories, of small shared moments. A word, a touch, a kindness, a smile. Almost, he loosens his grasp, but it hits him again, the sense of betrayal, the true knowledge of what this.. this _thing_ is that he holds here in his claw. _Peacekeeper. Slaver. Killer._ How could he have ever imagined that she was his friend? Or that mere DNA could ever make a connection between them?

He squeezes. And squeezes. And squeezes.

She grows blue. She grows limp. She grows cold. And the only thing he feels... is satisfaction.

The others leave after that. One or two at a time, they make their excuses and go, and he and Moya are left alone, at last. Free, at last.

It bothers him, sometimes, how very happy he is.

**

TWO

It takes him ages to adjust to his new body, even after it stops rejecting him. It is many weekens before he learns to walk, and he never quite ceases to mourn his missing arms.

But that is nothing, of course, against the aching loss of missing Moya, and every microt he spends with D'Argo only makes it worse. He tries to teach him how to care for her, how to be her Pilot, because he knows it's best for Moya. But every day, as the bond between them grows, it becomes harder and harder for him to look into what used to be his face and not want to rip this intruder free from her neural connections.

Most of them don't even notice, or perhaps they don't care, lost as they are in problems of their own. Only Chiana seems to understand, and on nights when his frustrated loss and jealousy become too much to bear, she comes to him, shows him what bliss this body she knows so well is capable of, and soothes him into sleep. But it never really lasts.

Only one thought ever manages, however slightly, to console him: This can't go on forever. Nebari don't live nearly as long as Pilots.

**

THREE

When he left his homeworld, when he chose this life, he gave up any hope of a family or a child of his own.

Or so he'd always believed. But every day that Talyn flies beside them, every thought and emotion he feels passing between son and mother proves him wrong. He could not love a child of his own body more than he loves this child. He could not be prouder of a child of his own. He could not be happier to watch his offspring grow.

And he smiles as he realizes he has sacrificed nothing at all.

**

FOUR

She doesn't wake up. Eight hundred microts, nine hundred, a thousand. He waits and he waits and he prays to Kehaynu, and he cries out to her with all his love, but she doesn't wake up. She's gone, and she isn't coming back. He's killed her.

He knows how long it will take for him to die as well. Days. _Days_, without hope. Without her.

"Ka D'Argo," he says in his most polite and formal voice. "I have a favor to request. Could you come to my den? And... bring your qualta blade."

**

FIVE

They will be dying soon. There is little sadness in the thought, and much contentment. They are where they belong, here in the stillness of the sacred space. He is with his friend, his companion, the other half of his soul, and they will be together until the end, at the end, and, if the beliefs of his species are true, perhaps even after.

He has no regrets. It has been a long and full and happy life. He has known friendship, love, the joys of family. He has known the freedom of open space, the wonder of the stars. He has known the joy of becoming something more than himself alone, the honor of being chosen and accepted. He has felt a quiet satisfaction in growing old and graceful and wise.

His mind drifts back now, more and more often, to the first days of his youth, to a conversation in a quiet pool and the dreams of an overeager child. The memory of his younger self amuses him now. How foolish and naive he seems! In retrospect, he cannot imagine how he ever failed to see the truth. The elders were right; he _was_ too young.

He cannot believe how close he came to making the wrong decision.


End file.
